How to Crash Your Own Wedding
by kuchikitaichou
Summary: what Ichigo and Rukia's wedding might be like.


what do you know, I'm still alive!

well, this fic came to me when I saw a certain post on the IchiRuki LJ comm

but anyways:

**disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach. I can't even afford the little clorox label.

* * *

This was certainly the strangest wedding ceremony he had ever performed. 

Just the groom alone had bright, garish orange hair, clashing violently with his tuxedo.

And then there was the redhead, the short white-haired kid, and then a baldie, with that person next to him with weird... eyebrow thingies?

Then there was the eyepatched ruffian, the violent pink-haired girl gnawing on the baldie's head while perched on his shoulder, a shady-looking man dozing in his chair with an odd green-striped hat perched on his face, and then the black-haired gangster-like one with vulgar tattoos.

then the buxom ladies, a pencil-thin boy, and a Mexican giant.

He shivered, and walked up to the podium, wanting to get this over with.

Then, the door opened, revealing the petite bride, in light blue silk, in sheer defiance of the traditional white wedding gown.

The one giving her away was, apparently, her brother. He looked at the groom rather coldly, as if threatening him that if he made his little sister cry, he would personally slit his throat, stab his heart, and slice him into thousands of pieces... or something like that.

The minister gave a small shiver at the cold aura emanating from the bride's brother, and sweatdropped a bit as he turned to sit down next to the redhead.

And so the ceremony went on.

It went off without a hitch, except maybe the occasional yelp from a random victim of the violent pink-haired girl, a few sniffles and sobs from a small brown-haired girl clinging on to the white-haired boy's arm rather painfully (he felt sorry for the poor boy; really, he did.), a few loud sobs from the groom's father (crying out, "Oh, Masaki! Our son's all grown up!"), a few kicks from the little violent black-haired sister of the groom, the little blonde-haired sister trying to calm them down, a few loud grunts from the redhead, some dark, cold, stabbing looks from the brother, and a few attempts from a lazy-looking man (with that blindingly flashy pink coat of his) as he tried to smooch his "Nanao-chan", and the few whacks "Nanao-chan" returned.

But otherwise, it went pretty well.

the groom and bride finished saying their own personally written vows (the bride's note card had bad doodles of bunnies and strawberries on it, strangely enough.)

Then, the kiss.

He thinks that all hell broke loose then.

The redhead struggled to get out of his seat, while a nervous twitchy-looking blonde boy and the tattoed boy struggled to hold him down, the pink-haired girl bounced all over the walls, the bald one, the eyepatched one and the buxom blonde yelled out loudly, the small brown-haired girl and the well-endowed walnut-haired girl sniffled and sobbed holding on (or rather cutting off their circulation) to their respective "dates"(the white-haired brat and the pencil-boy with the glasses), the father of the groom wailed loudly to his "Masaki", the little sisters screamed "hurray!", the flashy-coat man grabbed his "Nanao-chan" and gave her a big smooch, the shady-looking man fired off some... fireworks...? from his cane, and the brother sat absolutely still, the lightbulbs over his head breaking as he silently planned his gruesome revenge.

As the bride and groom broke away, a cellphone went off, to the tune of the "Chappy Rabbit show".

The bride pulled it out of her dress, and flipping it open, she looked at the groom.

Then, the two nodding, ran out the halls, leaving the minister in shock.

Closing his Bible and sitting down, rubbing his temples, he thinks that next time, he will check in on what kind of people he's marrying.

* * *

that's the end. 

I really get the weirdest plotbunnies...

but anyways, please review, and be as picky as possible, and point out EVERY SINGLE THING that's wrong... thank you!


End file.
